Aftermath
by HelloSweetie221B
Summary: When Sherlock targets a suspected murderer, he has no idea that he's investing himself in an ancient war, uncovering secrets of assassins that are targeting women around London. How far is he willing to go to protect the ones he holds dear? Mostly Sherlolly. Rated T for some swearing, kissing, and pretty much the fact that I'm paranoid.
1. You Found Me

**_Authors Note: This is my first attempt at an actually completing and publishing a fan fiction. Please, please, please rate and review! Enjoy!_**

**_Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own Sherlock, because if I did, Sherlock would have confessed his love for Molly in series 3, which would have happened by now. :) _**

She hated him. She hated every being that was him. Yes, that's right; Molly Hooper hated the very existence of Sherlock Holmes.

It wasn't as if she had hated him just for the hell of it. She had a good reason. She had a million good reasons. She remembered that night as if it had happened moments ago.

You would think that after 3 months, the pain would have faded. She was deep in her reverie, replaying her outburst, regretting the things she had said. She cringed, remembering the venom in her tone, the look of hurt and anger on Sherlock's face. She couldn't undo what she said, but she was willing to try.

_**SsSsSsSs**_

_Sherlock was irritable today. It wasn't really his fault; Sherlock always got this way on a difficult case. Today, however, was the day that Molly Hooper would finally snap. _

_It was a late night at work, but Molly almost never cared if she stayed late; as long as it was Sherlock. _

_"I should probably get going. I'm supposed to be getting a ride from someone." Molly said sweetly. "A boyfriend, I presume." He replied casually. "I… um… yeah." She stammered, not even wanting to know how he deduced that._

_Sherlock opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a tall man with dark brown hair and leather gloves. He had pale skin and dark brown eyes. Sherlock's eyes raked the man. _

_"Are you ready to go, Molly?" the man asked._

_Sherlock could have sworn he heard slight annoyance in his tone. "Yeah. I was just waiting to lock up. Brian, this is Sherlock and John. They're friends of mine." She added. "So Molly, has your new lover told you about his past yet?" Sherlock interjected._

_John and Molly sighed, and Molly braced herself for the worst. "What are you talking about?" Brian asked. "Oh there are clear signs of drug and alcohol abuse. Actually, it smells like you just got done smoking with a couple of your friends at the bar." Sherlock was pacing around him now, looking him up and down._

_Brian looked absolutely disgusted. Why wouldn't he? "Sherlock, just stop." Molly warned. "Oh, come on. Tell me you can smell the alcohol on his breath, I can smell it from across the room." he replied. "If he wanted me to know, he would have told me." She said through clenched teeth._

_Sherlock scoffed. "Would you like to hear about his romantic past as well?" "Shut up." Molly snapped. _

_Sherlock narrowed his eyes on her. "What?" "I said shut up. Shut up, and get out. I never want to see you again!" Molly was now yelling at the consulting detective. "Molly, please don't fall head over heels for this man. Honestly, you of all people should set your standards higher." _

_"I said, leave. I don't want to see your face again, Sherlock Holmes, because I bloody hate you, and I am _done_ putting up with you're abuse!" She snapped._

_A streak of pain crossed Sherlock's face for a split second, something that only John could see, gathered his coat, and stormed out of the room without another word. John followed close behind, placing a hand on Molly's shoulder and giving her an apologetic glance. Anger welled up in the pit of Molly's stomach. She looked at a rather confused Brian, "Let's go home." She said finally. _

**_MmMmMmM_**

"Molly." Brian was shaking her shoulder vigorously, snapping her out of her daze. "What's gotten into you lately?" He asked, a slight bit annoyed. "Sorry, didn't sleep very well last night." She lied.

They walked silently through the chilly streets of London. Molly caught sight of someone staring. If it was anyone else, she wouldn't have given him a second glance, but this was not just anyone. It was Sherlock Holmes. He looked at them for a brief second, and then pulled his coat collar up further around his neck, and walked off. Molly stopped and stared at the now empty ally way.

"What is it?" Brian asked. "Did you just see him?" She asked. "Who?" "Sherlock. I just saw him over there." Molly asked curiously.

Brian let out an annoyed laugh. "You're still on about him? Why?!" he yelled. "Calm down. I haven't even talked to him in 3 months." She said, now growing a bit nervous.

Brian threw down the leftover food they had from dinner, making Molly flinch. "If you love him so much, why don't you just go marry him instead of wasting my time?!" he screamed. "Look, I won't stand here and let you scream at me like a psychopath. Calm down, Brian." She began to walk away when she felt a strong hand on her shoulder yanking her back.

She gasped. "Stop! What are you doing?" She yelled. "I'm doing what I normally do to people when they misbehave. I'm teaching you otherwise." Brian seethed.

Molly let out a sob. "No, please, I'm so sorry." She cried. "Oh, sweetheart, that won't work now." He laughed. "You see, I never gave a damn about you, little Ms. Molly. It was all just a part of the game. It's the aftermath of an ancient war." He whispered in her ear. "Help!" Molly howled.

Brian smiled slyly and brought his fist back, which he slammed into the side of her face. She swore she saw stars. "Don't worry, sweet, sweet Molly. It won't hurt for long." He removed a small pocket knife that was tucked away neatly in his pocket, and dragged the blade across her face, careful not to cut her skin. "You bastard." She breathed.

Brian smiled. "Oh, come on now. Don't be like that." He made a small slice on the side of her arm, which cut through her clothing.

She felt the warm tears spill over her eyes and streak down her face. He raised his arm once more, aiming the blade towards her throat. She closed her eyes and waited for the blade to make contact with her skin, but it never did. Instead, she felt the weight on top of her body leave. Her eyes shot wide open, her blood pulsing with adrenaline.

A grunt came from somewhere to the left of her, and Brian was on the ground in seconds, swinging at the dark figure that was on top of him; hitting him over and over. "Sherlock?" Molly gasped, focusing her eyes on the figure.

He turned to the small pathologist and tossed his phone to her. She fumbled with it for a moment before holding it tight in her shaking hands. "Call Lestrade. Tell him to get here now, that I've caught the murderer." He said.

Molly was still in shock. Her brain wasn't working right for some reason. All she saw was the glint of the blade. "Watch out!" she screamed.

Brian had regained a hold on his knife and was holding it up to strike Sherlock. Molly dropped the phone and immediately sprang into action. She charged towards Sherlock, knocking him out of the way of the man. She felt a sharp pain pierce her side, and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Sherlock regained his footing and yanked Molly away from the man before placing himself on top of him, with his knees on his chest, and his arms pinned to the ground.

"Were you going to kill her?!" he screamed. "No, no man, I…" "Yes or no?!" he yelled back. "Yes! But listen, I'm sorry, it wasn't…" Sherlock cut him off by punching him repeatedly in the face once more. "You better beg for mercy if she isn't okay, because I promise you I will kill you if she isn't." he seethed.

With one last swing of his arm, he brought his fist down onto Brian's face, making his body go limp. Sherlock Stood over the man kicking him hard enough in the side to crack a rib at the very least, and then scanned the ally for Molly. He found her crumpled against the wall, clutching her crimson stained side. He walked over to her and crouched down next to her. "Molly, can you talk to me?"

Molly's eyelids fluttered open and fixed themselves on him. "Sherlock…" She strained. "Shh, just tell me where my phone is." She pointed to a spot in the alley about 10 feet away.

Sherlock grabbed ahold of the phone and started punching in the numbers. "Lestrade, I need you here now with an ambulance. I'm in the alley near Baker Street. Molly's been attacked." He said urgently, mumbling over the phone something about a murderer being caught. "Yes, thank you."

Sherlock hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket, took off his coat, and wrapped it around her small frame. "Is this the part where you rip my shirt and wrap it around my wounds?" Molly smiled weakly.

The sound of the ambulance wailing was already piercing the eerie silence. "Listen, you're okay now. You'll be just fine." Sherlock said calmingly. "Why…. why were you… you following me?" She strained. "I knew he was the killer. You weren't at Bart's and your phone wasn't on. I had to make sure you were okay." Sherlock said quickly, pulling her close to him.

Molly groaned in pain. "You shouldn't have done that." Sherlock said quietly. "He… he was going to kill… kill you." She was slightly slurring her words together. "He was going to kill you too." He replied. "What do you… care?" She asked.

Sherlock looked at her for a moment, as if trying to find the answer himself, but snapped out of his trance at the feel of a hand on his shoulder. "Sherlock, the ambulance is here." The voice came from Detective Inspector Lestrade, who looked down at Molly wide eyed.

He sighed and ordered the man to be arrested for first degree murder, and assault. The paramedics brought the stretcher over to where Molly lay, and allowed a rather reluctant Sherlock to place her small frame on it. She was still awake and alert, a clear sign that she wasn't suffering from blood loss of any sort, but she still trembled in his arms. _Good_, Sherlock thought, at least the stab wound wasn't that deep.

Lestrade looked at Sherlock questioningly. "I'll explain later." He said, already walking towards John. His face was masked with concern. "What the hell is going on, Sherlock? You're covered in blood!" John yelled. "How did you know I was here?" "Someone dialed my number and then all I heard from there was screaming and yelling. I followed the cop cars over here." John explained.

Sherlock shook his head. "Brian Lucas is our murderer." Sherlock said flatly. "What, Molly's boyfriend?" He asked. "Yes. He tried to kill her. He tried to kill us both. She… she saved me." Sherlock trailed off.

John let out a sigh. "Oh, Jesus. Is she okay?" "She will be." He reassured John.

Sherlock was approached by a young paramedic that was seemingly still in training. "Mr. Holmes, Miss Hooper would like for you to ride to the hospital with her. She's a bit shaken up." The man said respectfully. Sherlock nodded, "I'll explain everything later, John." "Where are you going?"

Sherlock didn't even reply before basically launching himself into the ambulance with Molly.

**_So what did you all think? Sorry I never gave a specific address or anything… Unfortunately, I'm stuck in South Carolina, and I have no sense of direction 30 minutes from my house, but, hey… I tried! Hope you enjoyed, and thanks so much for reading!_**

**_XXX Danielle_**


	2. Afterwards

**_Authors Note: Alright then! Here's the second chapter! Hopefully I will be able to post a new chapter at least a couple times a week, but sorry for the delay… apparently 8_****_th_****_ grade teachers love to have little competitions to see who can hand out the most homework. Anyway, thank you SO SO SO much for the follows/favorites, and your kind reviews!_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. In order to do that I would have to be an older British male with a deep bottomless pit for a heart, AKA Steven Moffat. (Just kidding, we all love you no matter how much we say we hate you :)._**

**_SsSsSsSs_**

Molly let her eyes flutter open; wincing at the pain in her side. She tried to recollect where she was; what had happened. It was as if her train of thought had derailed itself. She couldn't focus, she couldn't think, and what scared her most was that she couldn't figure out where the hell she was right now.

"Feeling better, then?" She heard the voice say.

She had heard it somewhere before; if only she could remember where. She blinked and scrunched her face up trying to focus on the figure seeping through the blur of her vision.

"John?… I… where am I?" she managed to speak. "You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened to you?" he asked.

Molly closed her eyes, almost wishing she hadn't remembered. It was obvious that Sherlock told John everything. He had to, considering the fact that Molly had found and dialed John's phone number before dropping the phone in a panic. She had blinked the fuzz out of her vision, and focused on the short sandy haired man standing before her. John smiled and placed his hand over hers.

"Yes." Molly replied rather sadly, glancing down at her bandaged wrist and waist.

John looked at her with understanding written all over his face. "How are you doing?" "How do you think?" she asked.

This seemed to leave John speechless, so instead of answering, he bent down to kiss her forehead gently. "I promise you, everything will be okay." He said. "Where's Sherlock? Oh god, he's alright, isn't he?" Molly asked frantically.

"Shh, calm down. You saved him, remember?" John reminded. "Right, sorry. He is okay though, isn't he?" "Of course. Just relax, and I'll send for Sherlock." he said kindly. "Thank you." Molly croaked, sinking back into the bed.

**_MmMmMm_**

Sherlock let the heat and anger flood his body; his blood still pumping with adrenaline. He was angry. It was the type of anger that he'd felt as he watched John near his head stone on those distant nights, taking to upturned dirt, and fake flowers. Or, perhaps that was guilt. Either way, the feeling was new to him, and he hated it.

He didn't know exactly what kept him from killing Brian Lucas on sight. I mean, let's face it. It wouldn't be the first time he wiped his hands clean of someone else's blood. Maybe it was simply because Molly was there. Then again, when had Sherlock Holmes ever acted reflecting upon the actions of others? And then he thought back to 6 months ago, when he hid away at Molly's flat after faking his suicide.

_Someone had followed Molly back from one of her late shifts at St. Bart's. Sherlock had heard the screaming from the bottom flight of stairs, realizing exactly who it came from. It didn't even take him 4 seconds to work out what was happening. He jumped from his spot on the couch and felt through his pocket for the gun he kept with him, busting through the front door. The man had his hands constricted around Molly's throat, which sent chills up Sherlock's spine._

_ In the end, Sherlock shot the man 3 times, and he lost most of his blood; which didn't make for a very clean crime scene. _

_ Of course he had to hide in the alleys, making Molly lie to Lestrade. She told him that a strange man had run to her rescue, and that he had fled the scene after the shots were fired. The man was hospitalized for weeks before they finally sent him away to Pentavil prison. Meanwhile Molly kept her arms locked her arms around Sherlock, and cried until the tears stopped coming, and she fell asleep in the arms of the consulting detective. _

_That was pretty much the first time that Sherlock and Molly had really bonded. After that night, Sherlock held himself back from most of his snarky comments, and he actually got along with someone other than John and Mrs. Hudson. From that night forward, Sherlock promised to protect her at all costs, and tonight was the night that he had broken that promise to himself._

This Brian Lucas man was _no_ exception. Sherlock strode into the police station with his head held high, and his focus on the copper doors that led to the interrogation room. He briefly glanced around to get a feel for his surroundings.

"Sherlock, calm yourself down before you walk in there." Lestrade urged. "And why should I?" "There's no need to get upset. Just stay calm, and ask the necessary questions." Lestrade demanded.

Sherlock grinned malevolently towards the doors "Oh no worries, Lestrade. I'll go easy on him."

Lestrade sighed, rolled his eyes, and then proceeded to unlock the doors. "God help him." He mumbled under his breath.

Sherlock now stood before the rather calm looking Brian, still grinning eerily. He looked closely at his face, which he had beaten to a blue and purple mess of bloody cuts and scrapes. Feeling a bit better at this, he let the anger in the pit of his stomach reside as he spoke.

"Here's how this is going to work. I talk, and you listen. You answer my questions when asked, and no playing games, am I clear?" Sherlock enlightened the man.

Brian let a grin cross his face, though he found nothing funny. "And what happens if I don't want to play along, Mr. Holmes?"  
Sherlock grinned back at him. "Well, if you follow my orders I might let you live to see tomorrow."

Sherlock felt his cheeks turn a bright red due to the amount of restraint it took to stop from killing this man on site. He studied every aspect of the man whom he was absolutely disgusted with in front of him; making mental notes to further use against him in his interrogation. The man's eyes brightened a bit, and he began to laugh for some odd reson.

"Did I anger you, Mr. Holmes?" he asked. "Yes." Sherlock replied swiftly. "I made you angry, because I hit you where it hurt, and you know that don't you?" He spat.

Sherlock's grin was wiped clean off of his face, now taking a more serious approach. "I believe I'll be asking the questions, Mr. Lucas." The dark haired man said mockingly. "Why of all people would you go after her?" he asked.

"Who?" the man asked. "You know who."

At this, the man in the seat only feet away from Sherlock burst into an eerie, sick laughter, which erupted into a fit of coughing. "No. You see, Sherlock Holmes; I wasn't after her. She was just a bonus, you see. I was after _you_." the man hissed.

Sherlock eyed the man questionably. "What kind of game are you playing with me?" he hissed, obviously pushed to the point of frustration. "I'm just playing the games, Mr. Holmes." He smiled slyly.

Sherlock kept his gaze fixed on the man. "Before you… attacked Molly, you were talking to her. What were you telling her?" the consulting detective hesitated a bit with this question.

"I told her that she was caught in the crossfire; the aftermath of a war that's been happening since long before your time; long before my time. This is the Aftermath of the war. This is how the war ends." The man gave another sly smile that made Sherlock sick.

"What is this war you're talking about?" Sherlock asked. "Ask your brother. He knows _all_ about it."

Now Sherlock was growing impatient. "You didn't answer my question. And how exactly do you plan to end this while locked up in a prison cell?" Sherlock replied, a little bit too confidently.

The man was interrupted by Lestrade, who had let himself in the room. "Sherlock, time's up." He said, tapping his wrist watch persistently.

"Wait a moment. You still need to answer me." Sherlock scowled. "Sherlock, let's go." Lestrade said once more. The man named Brian laughed unfeelingly at this.

Sherlock slammed his fist into the hard metal table. "Tell me!" "All in good time, Mr. Holmes." He retorted.

By this time, Lestrade had pried Sherlock from his seat, and shoved him out of the door. "What the hell was that? I almost had the information I needed out of him!" Sherlock yelled.

"Calm down. I've just got word from the hospital." He spoke with delicacy in his words, which admittedly made Sherlock nervous.

"And?" "She's stable, just a bit shaken up. John says she's doing well, but she's asking for you." He explained.

Sherlock allowed relief to flood his body, and let out a breath he had no idea he was holding. "Thank you for all of your help, Detective Inspector. That'll be all." Sherlock said formally, striding towards the doors, and hailing a cab.

**SsSsSsSs**

It seemed like forever before Sherlock finally arrived. He looked at Molly; her brown eyes staring off somewhere into space before turning to return the consulting detectives glance. He took a seat that was inches away from the bed. They sat in silence for what seemed like forever before Sherlock finally spoke.

"If you're worried about Brian, don't be. I took care of him." "I'm not." Molly replied shortly.

Sherlock stayed silent for once, which was strangely unusual for him. "Then what are you worried about?" he asked. "Do you know what he whispered in my ear… before he tried to kill me, I mean?"

Sherlock thought for a moment. "Yes. Nothing to worry about, the man is obviously in need of mental stability." He lied. "Trust me. You have nothing to worry about. He's behind bars now, and that's all that matters."

"Why don't I believe you?" Molly asked. "Brian is a murderer. For the sake of all sanity, don't take his word over mine. What he did; what he said he was going to do… it was all just part of his little game." Sherlock explained.

Molly's eyelids had grown heavy already, and she was fighting to stay awake. "That's the morphine making you sleepy. You should get some rest. I'll still be here when you wake up." Sherlock looked over to the small pathologist, who had grown quiet in the small hospital bed.

Somewhere in the conversation she had dozed off, which sort of annoyed Sherlock, even though he wouldn't admit it. Somewhere in between the state of falling asleep and fighting to stay awake, Sherlock leaned over Molly, carefully pressing his lips against her warm, fragile skin. Molly swore that it was the medication, but somewhere in the midst of all of this, she could have sworn she heard Sherlock whisper something almost inaudible. "Thank you." the soft baritone voice spoke.

_Yup,_ she thought, _it's _definitely_ the medicine._

**_Authors Note: Soooooo…. I hope you liked this chapter! Again, I'm sorry I'm like 3 weeks late! Hopefully I'll make better use of my time. I'm entering a writing competition, where I'll be writing an original novel, (5,000 words at minimum), and posting it to a website, so I might stall this fic again… Please bear with me. :) Thank you so much for your support! Please, please, please follow and review! Thank you!_**

**_XXX Danielle_**


	3. Kiss Kiss, Darling

**_Authors Note: Okay. I admit… I'm late, and I have no excuse… besides the fact that I was lazy and without inspiration for a third chapter. :) Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter! _**

**_Disclaimer: Not going to be sarcastic, because it's late and I'm tired, but I still don't own Sherlock! :) _**

"Care to explain to me what the hell happened?!" John yelled.

Sherlock shook his head and shrugged his shoulders as he removed his scarf from around his neck. It was pretty much the only thing that wasn't blood-stained.

"Brian Lucas attacked Molly Hooper after he found out I was following them, he pulled a knife on me, Molly pushed me out of the way, and she was injured. I thought you'd gotten that much." He snapped.

"You really expect me to believe that that's all that happened?" "What are you talking about?" John obviously sensed Sherlock's irritation, though he decided to say nothing.

"Sherlock, we were working on the case when you looked me in the eye, told me that you were running an errand, and just disappeared. The next time I saw you, you were covered in blood that could have very well been yours. Not to mention that one of your friends and co-workers is in the hospital as we speak, because you're too stubborn to ask for help when you obviously need it!" John was yelling now, his face growing red with anger towards the consulting detective.

"You couldn't have done anything for me. The important thing is that we have our criminal." Sherlock was short with his answer, not wanting to feel anger any more than he already had tonight.

John shook his head in exasperation. "No, Sherlock, the most important thing is that Molly Hooper isn't dead as of right now! How's she even going to live alone now knowing what an easy target she is for the rest of the bastards searching for their next victim?"

John's words finally got to Sherlock. He was finally about to defend himself when he remembered something. "Hold on, is anyone even at the hospital with her?" "Lestrade said that he would stay with her and call when she woke up. Her mother is in America right now, and she has no siblings or other relatives that I know of." John explained, now calming his pounding heart.

A look of relief spread across Sherlock's face, which for some reason made John a bit antsy. "Actually she has a brother living in Africa on some missionary of sorts. She's out of contact with her family anyways. They stopped contacting her after her father passed." Sherlock explained.

This earned him a surprised look from John, who raised his eyebrows at his friend. "Oh don't give me that look. I've worked with the woman for over 6 years; I've had personal conversations with her before." He snapped.

John shook his head and smiled. "Alright, whatever. You need to change out of those clothes and get washed up and I'll meet you back at St. Bart's." John said. Sherlock nodded towards him and headed up stairs, waiting until he heard the door close to remove his coat to look his bloodied self over in the mirror.

Shivers raced through Sherlock's body. The thought of someone actually killing Molly was somewhat scary to Sherlock. He _did_ care about her, no matter what John said. She saved his life, more than once as of tonight. But one question still haunted him. _Who was this man, and what else did he have against me?_

Shaking the thought from his mind, the consulting detective stripped the half white- half red shirt off of himself, followed by his trousers. He began disposing of them in plastic bags Mrs. Hudson kept under the bathroom sink. He turned the knob on the shower head, stepping in and letting the heat overwhelm his body. He stared at the crimson colored water as it found its way to the small drain. What was going to happen to her after she left St. Bart's? Would she be able to bear living in fear, or would she act like her usual strong self, and live with the threat of this happening again?

Given, she did recover from the attack when Sherlock hid out at her apartment. No. This was _not_ the same thing. This man got close to her, pushing Sherlock away in the process, and then took advantage of the opportunity. This could not happen again. He refused to let this happen again.

**_SsSsSsSs_**

Molly woke from her sleep with a jump, forgetting where she was for a moment. She felt a strong grip on her small hand, fixing her eyes to the figure standing beside her. Greg Lestrade gave her an uncomfortable smile. "Greg? What…" "Everything's fine. Sherlock and John just went home to clean up and get things sorted out a bit." He explained.

Molly slouched back in the small hospital bed, trying to ignore the pain in her side. "How long was I asleep?" She asked groggily. "Not long. About an hour or two. Are you feeling any pain?" he asked kindly. "Just a little bit. Nothing I can't bear. Did the doctor's say how much longer I'll be here for?"

"I believe he said you can leave tonight if you would like to. If not, they'll only keep you here until tomorrow." He said.

Molly closed her eyes for a moment, pushing away images of Brian on top of her; holding the knife over Sherlock's heart. The only thing that snapped her out of her reverie was John quietly shutting the door. "How's the patient?" he teased.

Molly forced a smile to cross her face. "I've been better. How about you?"

She asked.

John smiled, letting a small giggle escape his lips. "What?" she asked.

"You. You're lying in a hospital bed and you're still asking me how I am." He said.

Molly looked down to hide the redness in her cheeks. Lestrade looked towards John, as if asking him if it was alright to leave now that he had returned. He nodded and smiled again at the small figure lying in the bed.

"Alright. I think I should go. I still have paper work I need to finish up." He directed his attention towards Molly, "If you need anything, call me, alright?" Molly nodded and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

The Detective Inspector stepped forwards and embraced the woman in his arms, gently patting her back, and walking out of the room, leaving only John and Molly alone in the hospital room. The awkward silence was really eating away at Molly; who was staring off into space at the moment. "Any word on when you'll be able to go home?" John finally asked. "Um… I think I'm able to go home tomorrow." She said; her voice almost inaudible.

Those were the last words they spoke to each other before Sherlock came strolling through the hospital doors. Molly let out a sigh of relieve now that the awkward silence was over. His hair was still a wet mass of black curls. Molly smiled warmly at the sight of the consulting detective, but was cut off before she was able to greet him. "Miss Hooper, you're cab awaits you." Sherlock stated kindly.

Molly furrowed her brow in confusion. "Have I been released already?" she asked. "Yes. I've already talked to your doctor. You're just about ready to leave." Sherlock explained.

John held up his hand to stop his further rambling on. "Why don't you ask her what she wants?" he said. "No, John, it's fine. I don't want to stay here any longer anyways." Molly forced a smile. She was ready to leave this place.

"We'll stop off at your flat so you can get changed, and then we need to head down to the police station where Lestrade will question you about…" Sherlock trailed off. "That's fine. Will you be coming as well?" she directed towards Sherlock.

He nodded slowly, turning to face the doctor the second he walked through the door. "Miss Hooper, you're all set." He said, handing her a bag that contained 2 orange pill bottles. "Those are your pain killers. Take one of each twice daily. If you experience anything out of the ordinary, you need to contact either myself or your regular doctor immediately." He explained.

"What do you mean, out of the ordinary?" Molly asked. "You may experience nausea, loss of appetite. Those are all normal symptoms. You may experience dizzy spells and loss of balance, which is what we really need you to look out for."

Sherlock watched while Molly held onto his every word, listening intently as he rambled on about symptoms and side effects. After they finished, Molly threw on her blood-stained jeans, and her white coat she asked John to grab from her office. Despite her attempt to bundle herself up, she still shuttered uncontrollably at the feel of the harsh wind on her warm skin. Sherlock noted this and, much to John's surprise, removed his own coat to drape over Molly's shoulders.

"No… Sherlock… you'll catch something…" She shivered. "It's fine." He said dismissively.

Molly forced a smile, and attempted to enjoy the silence of the cab ride back to her flat, fighting off the sudden urge to kiss that irritating man right then and there.

**MmMmMm**

Molly was right about one thing; the cab ride home was quiet. However, it wasn't a peaceful silence; it was leaning more towards awkward by the time they finally arrived at her apartment. Sherlock was the first to speak, finally breaking the forever lasting silence.

"Wait." He told her, as she slid the small silver key into the lock. "Why?" She asked. "Shh. Both of you be quiet for just a moment." He said, facing his ear towards the door.

Both Molly and John did as they were told, waiting in anticipation for what seemed like a lifetime. "There's someone inside. Stay back. I'll go in first." Sherlock whispered, removing a small revolver from his coat.

"What the hell are you carrying that around for?" Molly scolded. "Shh. Not now." He said dismissively, reaching for the doorknob.

"Sherlock, you can't just walk in there. Call the police for god sakes." John said. "It's fine." He said. "No, it's not, Sherlock. You're going to get yourself killed." Molly said. "Molly, if I don't go in there then…"

Sherlock stopped mid-sentence at the sound of a gun being loaded and pressed to the back of his head. "Put your hands up, now." The voice ordered.

Sherlock closed his eyes, trying to focus on his next move as he gingerly slid the gun in his waistline, and raised his hands high enough so that the man could see, but low enough so that he could reach his gun if needed. "What do you want?" He asked. "This isn't about what I want, Mr. Holmes. It's about what you've already started."

Sherlock didn't like where this was going. Molly was back against the rail, clinging for dear life to John, who stood staring with an emotionless expression. He'd entered his _'I'm a solider, I feel nothing'_ mode; as Sherlock referred to it. "Explain." The consulting detective said irritably. "Brian Lucas. I assume you've taken him into custody already." The man asked.

_Now_ he was growing irritable. "What. Do. You. Want?" Sherlock asked, pausing in between his words. "Hand over my brother, and I'll let you walk away with your girlfriend still alive."

Molly shivered violently at the threat. "She's not my girlfriend, you uninformed bastard." He snapped. "Well then I guess you won't mind if I put a bullet in her head then?" the man growled.

Sherlock laughed at this, though his heart was once again pounding with rage. "You can certainly take Miss Hooper's life…" He said. "Over my dead body."

Sherlock swung his arm around in one swift motion, knocking the man's arm to the side. He kicked his wrist with one powerful blow, making him drop the gun. John had stepped in now, punching the small man in the face. Rather pleased with the actions John just followed through with, Sherlock picked up the gun and held it to his head before the man could stand once more. "This ends here." He said violently.

Molly stood in the corner, paralyzed with fear. "Molly, phone Lestrade. Tell him we've caught another one." He directed.

Now Sherlock could really look at the man. He had a beard just starting to spread all over his face, and dark hair like his brothers. His front teeth were yellowed and gapped where some had fallen out. The man had to have been at least 47 years of age, and a drug and alcohol addict just like his brother. Now Sherlock saw the resemblance. They have the same ice in their eyes; the same crooked smile. Now, they both have the same black and blue bruises on their faces as well, Sherlock silently praised himself.

Molly handed the phone to Sherlock, looking even more panicked than before. He held the phone to his ear, keeping the gun pointed at the man's head. "Hello?" he said.

"Hello brother dear. If I am correct, you have the brother of Brian Lucas in your custody as of now."

Sherlock shook his head in disgust. "Mycroft, tell me what's going on." He demanded. "That's not important now. My men will be over to escort him into the hands of my secret service, who should be arriving as of now." Mycroft explained.

As if on cue, at least 10 secret service men dressed in formal black and white suits came running up the steps, wordlessly handcuffing the man, and removing the gun from Sherlock's hand. "Who the hell are you?!" He yelled. "Mr. Holmes, Mr. Watson, and Miss Hooper, if you would please follow us." They said.

Molly looked to Sherlock for reassurance, receiving nothing in return. "No." he spat. "We will take you by force, Mr. Holmes." "Oh, I'd love to see you try." He teased.

The man motioned for the remaining 7 men forwards, two grabbing Sherlock, who reluctantly broke free of their grasp and walked at his own pace. It took three men to carry John, who was kicking and punching at the men, to finally restrain him. The remaining two men took ahold of Molly, who gasped at the jerking pain in her side. Sherlock rushed to her aid, shoving away the two men, and wrapping his arm protectively around Molly's shoulders.

"It's going to be okay. It's just my brother up to his old tricks again." He reassured her. "Sherlock you'd better figure out what the hell is going on, because I don't know how much more of this I can take." She replied tiredly.

"Trust me. I promised I wouldn't let them hurt you again, and I plan to keep that promise." Molly sighed, and drew up her arm to smack Sherlock hard across his bicep. "Ow, what was that for?" "Sherlock, I don't care that people are chasing me. I don't care that I got hurt. I care about your safety. You can't keep throwing yourself into the face of danger the minute you get the opportunity!" "I'm doing it to protect you!" Sherlock yelled.

Sherlock and Molly were now far behind the secret service men, and John, which was a good thing considering that this was turning into a rather loud argument. "I don't want protection if it means you dying in the process!" "What do you want then? Do you want me to let you die? Do you want me to throw you in front of me as a shield, because if that's what you want, then I can't do that, Molly!"

It took a lot to tick off Molly Hooper, but when it happened, _it happened_. "Let me ask you one question, Sherlock. If I'm such a huge concern of yours, then why didn't you talk to me for months?!" she hissed. "Because you told me that you hated me, and that you never wanted to see my face again! I didn't know what you wanted me to do!"

Molly shook her head. She was done with this argument, but all the same, she was sick and tired of holding back. "Do you seriously think I meant that?! These past few months have been bloody hell for me! Honestly, how long have I known you? I will never hate you, no matter how many times you deduce me to tears; no matter how many boyfriends you chase away; I will never hate you, Sherlock Holmes." She screamed.

Sherlock paused, looking her straight in the eyes now. "And why is that?" he asked in all seriousness.

Sherlock had stopped yelling at some point throughout the conversation, and was surprised to find that they were only mere inches away from one another. Molly shook her head at the clueless man standing in front of her, shaking her head at his response. _He has to know, right?_

She didn't know what to think anymore, and honestly, thinking was getting old. Without another word, Molly closed the remaining space between them, forcefully pressing her lips to his. The funny thing was… he didn't pull away. In fact, _he_ was kissing _her_ back. Molly brought her hand up and ran her fingers though his raven locks; down his neck. Sherlock's hands found their way to her waist, traveling up her spine, making her gasp for air before his lips came crashing back down on hers, hungry for more.

Her heart beat pounded away in her ears, but she didn't care. Sherlock lifted her up, careful not to touch anywhere around her stiches. She wrapped her legs around his waist, still fully engaged in the kiss. Molly ran her hand down Sherlock's chest, feeling his own heart pounding away like a drum in his broad chest. Their lips finally came to a halt, and Sherlock carefully set Molly back down.

Their hearts still beat out of control, which was something Sherlock rarely experienced. They stayed silent for a moment. Their lips were still inches away from each other's, and their foreheads were resting on one another for support, more or less. They locked eyes for a moment, finding the crazed look on each other's face amusing. Molly smiled at Sherlock, whose hair was sticking up at various awkward angles surrounding his head, and pressed them back down with her shaking hand.

That's when they heard his voice.

"If you're quite finished yet, brother dear, you are still needed back at my quarters."

**_Soooooo… Did you like it? Sherlock and Molly FINALLY shared their first kiss. :) This chapter was a bit long, but I feel like since I haven't updated in a few weeks, you guys deserve it. Thanks so much for all of your support!_**

**_XXX Danielle _**


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